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Thursday, December 31, 2015

Simon and Garfunkel’s song “The Sounds
of Silence” always touched me. When I heard the cover performed by Disturbed,
it made me hear the lyrics in a different context—a more urgent one. The same
words performed in a different manner brought a new dimension to the song and
made me pay attention to parts of it that just blended into the background
before.

The haunting lyrics of “The Sounds
of Silence” make me think of how Jim’s voice was silenced with aphasia during
his years with dementia. His problems began with just a few jumbled words until
his voice was stilled except for an occasional word. When a spoken word broke through
the boundary of silence, it was as treasured as a rare jewel.

Mostly, Jim learned to talk without
speaking, without words. His mannerisms became the clues that told us of his
needs. His eyes communicated his pleasure, pain, joy, confusion, and a myriad
of emotions.

Jim always said he knew me better
than I knew myself, and I believe that was the key to our communication.
Instinctively, he knew how to get his point across.

Communicating with a loved one who
has Alzheimer’s requires some thought. When you consider that only about 7% of
communication is from words, it opens many possibilities.

1.Speak in simple, straight-forward sentences and give
only one instruction at a time. If I ever asked Jim to do two things in one
sentence, he only reacted to the second request.

2.Patience is your friend! Allow time for a response. Don’t
expect a quick response, or even an appropriate one.

3.Use body language to get your point across. Your loved
one will understand tone of voice and body language long beyond the time when
they understand your words. Point, demonstrate, or use props. Also, watch your
loved one’s body language. Restlessness, irritability, and other physical
symptoms will alert you to their distress.

4.Validate the emotions you see and hear. Their reaction
to something might be completely different from yours, or even what you would
expect theirs to be. They may re-live grief over and over, or may not acknowledge
there is anything to grieve even when a close relative dies.

Throughout life, we communicate—from
a baby’s cry, parenting, learning in school, to our last profound words. Life
is more complicated and confusing when we lose our lifelong ability to communicate
effectively.

Communication isn’t easy when your
loved one has dementia, but putting in the effort to keep the lines of
communication open will help your loved one and you maintain a happier relationship.
Loving words, hugs, and smiles will convey your deepest feelings. When you
listen with your heart, the sounds of silence will tell you everything you need
to know.

Monday, December 28, 2015

At our
family celebration, the day after Christmas, my grandson opened his Star Wars Lego’s. He is fascinated with all
things Star Wars.

“Has he
seen the new Star Wars movie,” I asked his dad.

“No, he
hasn’t,” Rob replied.

I mentioned
a photo posted on Facebook showing people lined up in front of a movie theater to
see the original Star Wars in 1977.
The caption read, “Your grandparents lined up to see the first Star Wars.”

“I
remember when your dad and I took you and Eric to see Star Wars. We went to the drive-in to see it and you both fell
asleep.” Of course, drive-in movies didn’t start until after dark and five- and
seven-year-olds were up past their bedtimes. So, Jim and I were the only ones
to see the entire movie.

Of
course, at the time, we thought there would only be one Star Wars movie. Instead, it was the series of movies that just
kept on giving, and in 2015 gave again. What I didn’t know was that due to the
prequels, the original Star Wars movie’s
name was changed to Star Wars Episode IV
A New Hope.

It seems
odd that an original movie in a series would be renamed, “A new hope.” I find
that intriguing for life as well. We all face so much adversity just living
from day to day that we could use a little bit of “new” hope to keep us going.

When dealing
with Alzheimer’s, we may have years of sorrow,
months of endurance, weeks of despair, and days of joy, but through it all, we
never give up hope.

With
Alzheimer’s, hope may be just hoping for a good day, hoping that the family
pulls together, hope that there is something way better than this world. Hope
for a miracle burrows deep within our hearts that the cure will be discovered
in time to save our loved ones.

Now, we
have a new hope. We have hope that this disease will be stamped out in our
lifetime. Finally, our nation is pulling together to fund research in an unprecedented
amount. We have declared war on Alzheimer’s.

On
December 22, Harry Johns, CEO of the Alzheimer’s Association, said, “As we
celebrate this momentum for our cause, we are, of course, deeply appreciative
of our champions in Congress, members from both parties, who have made the
advances we need much more likely with the historic funding increase announced
last week. They have provided unprecedented leadership that will ultimately
make a difference in millions and millions of lives.”

I’ll be making
my sixteenth consecutive trip to the Alzheimer’s Advocacy Forum in April to
help celebrate this new hope. Yes, an increase in funding is a great victory
but our work isn’t done, and it won’t be, until Alzheimer’s is a curable
disease.

A cure
has been my hope for many, many years. My new hope is that someday I’ll go to
D.C. and won’t have anything on my agenda except sight-seeing. Until then, I’ll
wear my purple sash and continue to fight the war against Alzheimer’s.

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Yesterday,
I met the un-merriest checker ever at Walmart in Columbia. The light was lit that indicated the lane was open, so Harold and I put our items on the belt. We could
see the checker, who was supposed to be on duty, deep in conversation with
another woman. Finally, she spotted us as we patiently waited for someone to ring
up our purchases.

She
sauntered over, not saying a word or even giving a hint of a smile, and picked
up the items, one by one, scanning. The total came up, she glared and nodded
toward the credit card machine. I scanned the card, and she handed me the
receipt. Then, she begrudgingly murmured “Thank you,” beneath her breath.
Anyway, she said something that ended in “you.” I wouldn’t a hundred percent
swear the first word was “thank.”

“Wow! She
was rude,” I said just as soon as I was out of earshot. Yes, maybe I should
have challenged her to her face, but I’m not passive-aggressive so I didn’t say
it loud enough for her to overhear.

I know
she had a voice because we interrupted her conversation. I don’t know what her
problem was. She certainly wouldn’t be in contention for employee of the month.

It was
disconcerting to see someone act that way in a retail business offers a high level of customer
service, but some people just don’t do holidays well. People who have suffered
a tragedy at Christmas time often endure rather than enjoy.

Holiday cheer and noise don’t bode well for people with dementia. A lot of holiday chaos can send a person with Alzheimer’s
into a tailspin.

Just a
few suggestions to make the holidays easier if you have a loved one with
dementia:

1.Keep the celebrations
simple. It is much better to have an intimate dinner than a huge family
gathering. If it’s too hard for you to host the holiday celebration, ask
someone else to host it.

2.Be kind to yourself!
If it’s too much to maintain all the traditions of holidays past, choose the
ones that mean the most. Especially, if they are ones you can let your loved
one share with you. Can your loved one ice the Christmas cookies?

3.Take time for yourself. Find a
few moments to indulge yourself. You could go to a Christmas program, schedule
a relaxing massage, or go to a movie with a friend.

The
person who can make your Christmas merry is you. Everyone else can jump through
hoops trying to make it happen, but merriness doesn’t come from Walmart, it
comes from the heart. You will find those who give you the gift of friendship, kindness,
and love will help bring joy to your holiday.

Don’t let
anyone steal your joy or cast guilt on you for not being able to do all that
you did in the past. Fill the holidays with peace.

If you
happen to go into the Columbia Walmart see a checker with a
scowl on her face and a Grinch in her heart, tell her I said, “Merry Christmas!”
She probably needs all the encouragement and cheer she can get.

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Have you
ever noticed that some people seem old before their time? The reason some
appear to be elderly could be due to physical appearance—they have wrinkles,
shuffle when they walk—or more obviously they have turned into a grumpy old
person.

Then, there is my mom. She will be 89 next month but has apparently been dipping her toes in the fountain of youth. She is healthy, active, and beautiful.

Attitude
is a key factor in whether your twilight years are enjoyable and fruitful or
just an excuse to check out from life early. You see people struggle with the
concept of retirement. It takes less effort and risk to keep on working. It
isn’t always people who need the money either—they are afraid of not having
enough to do or tie their self-worth to their career.

I took
early retirement. I loved my job and had worked hard to succeed, but deep
inside, I knew it was “time.” I was ready to turn the page on a new chapter—or perhaps
open a new book. I faced retirement with excitement and without any regrets.

Recently,
after exchanging pleasantries, a Walmart checker said she was glad her day was
almost over and she could go home. “I have to work another five years before I
can retire. That is if my health holds out.”

I swiped my credit card and said, “My
doctor said she was glad I retired while I was in good health and could enjoy
it. She sees so many people wait until they can’t work anymore.”

Retirement
has been kind to me. I love waking up when I want to—at least most of the time.
I choose the path to walk most days, or the comfy chair to sit in and read a
book, or the TV show to watch, or the social event to attend. Oh, sometimes
living with a farmer means getting dragged into all kinds of projects. Guess that
counts as physical exercise and saves on a gym membership.

In order
to live, you must embrace life. If you live everyday letting other people bring
you down, you find yourself marking time, instead of making the most of it.
Each day is a blessing. We never know what tomorrow or the next hour might
bring. We choose to live, or we choose to endure a living death.

As we
age, we are prone to developing medical conditions. Some of these can be
brought on by lifestyle, genetics, environment, or a combination of all three.
Alzheimer’s is one of the most dreaded conditions for the elderly. It is not a
normal part of aging, but aging is the number one risk factor.

Researchers
found a link between being negative about old age and developing Alzheimer’s
disease. The Baltimore Longitudinal Study of Aging conducted a thirty-year
study on aging. Later in the study, they used scans to track the size of the
participants’ hippocampus which is primarily associated with memory and spatial
navigation. The people who began the study with a negative outlook on aging had
greater size reduction of the hippocampus than their more positive counterparts.
Autopsies found negative people had significantly more plaques and tangles, the
hallmarks of Alzheimer’s disease.

That’s good
news for those of us who see the up-side of aging. We look forward to doing our
own thing and taking advantage of those senior discounts. Who would have ever
thought attitude could be so darned healthy?

It helps
to put setbacks and failures in perspective. One thing is sure in life—even
during the darkest hours, a lot of people in this world are facing greater
hardships than I have ever known.

Hey, life
is hard. It can be a lot harder for some than others, but giving up is not an
option. It is heartening to see people who rise above adversity and take
control of their own destiny.

It’s all
about attitude. You’re only as old as your attitude lets you be. If you don't believe me, talk to my mom!

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

I checked
my Post Office box a few days ago and was pleasantly surprised to
see two handwritten missives. In today’s atmosphere of mass mailings, junk
mail, advertisements, and “or current occupant” mailings, it is almost
mind-boggling to get one handwritten note, much less an entire letter.

The first
note was from one of our Walk to End Alzheimer’s sponsors. Jessica Snell and I
had recently delivered T-shirts and a copy of Broken Road: Navigating the Alzheimer’s Labyrinth, a publication of
my 2014 Early Onset Alzheimer’s blog posts. After thanking us for the shirts,
she wrote, “It’s our pleasure to support this effort. I have forwarded your
book to our social workers and case managers because I thought they would find
it insightful.”

The other
note was from a gentleman who began with “I have Alzheimer’s, and I read your
book.” He didn't mention which book he
read. In addition to the first book I compiled and edited, Alzheimer’s Anthology of Unconditional Love, I have seven other
Alzheimer’s books from my blog. “My wife said I have quit talking and reading.
Today I read your entire book and I will read the Bible for two years.” He went
on to talk about his coconut oil regimen. He said that one of the things I did not
mention in my book is coconut oil and its benefits for Alzheimer’s.

He is not
the first person to ask why I haven’t talked about the benefits of coconut oil.
This is one alternative treatment I never tried on Jim, so I have no personal
experience to share.

There is
little scientific research on coconut oil and Alzheimer’s disease. A trial was
supposed to be completed in September of this year, but for some reason it has
been delayed and the results are not yet available. So, basically the jury is
still out on the benefits, or a possible downside, of coconut oil therapy.

Coconut
oil has its staunch supporters and anecdotal testimony. Some testimonials say
their loved ones showed immediate improvement after taking daily doses of
coconut oil for a short time.

Coconut
oil contains more MCT (medium chain triglycerides) than any other food. MCT
produces ketones, which some researchers believe can improve Alzheimer’s
symptoms. Some very small studies showed improved cognitive function from MCT
supplements. These studies used a supplement, not coconut oil.

A cautionary
tale is that the safety of coconut oil in medicinal amounts is unknown. Its
effect on cholesterol levels in high dosages is in dispute. Another
consideration is that just because something is “natural” doesn’t mean it is
safe when taken in abnormal amounts.

I know
the frustration of waiting for an effective treatment for Alzheimer’s and I, too,
used vitamin E supplements for Jim. I did clear the dosage with his physician
and told every specialist he saw that he was taking it. None saw it as a
problem.

I also
take a couple of supplements—CoQ10 and MegaRed for joint problems. My physician
knows I take these, and I’ve seen tremendous benefits from taking both. I took
different levels until I found the lowest dosage that provided the best
results. They don’t work for everyone, but I have confidence this regimen works
for me.

Perhaps,
it is the same with coconut oil. It may not work for everyone, but it may work
for others. I do know primary caregivers will see even subtle changes in a loved
one with dementia. We want the highest quality of life without causing any
harm.

Once the
larger studies are completed, science may come down on one side or the other in
the coconut oil question. In the meantime, I would urge caution and consultation
with a trusted medical professional before beginning any alternative treatment.

Sunday, November 29, 2015

When it rains, pours, day after day, you begin to think that the earth
is turning to water. All I can see from my window is rain in the yard, the
fields, and every other low spot in between. The skies are a hundred shades of
gray.

It’s hard to let my sunny disposition shine when Mother Nature doesn’t
cooperate. I have found myself thinking too much and doing too little. I’ve
vegged out on the couch two days straight. I watched show after show. My
listless, do-nothing self became my dominant trait. It’s the rain’s fault.

The fall decorations were clustered together waiting for me to get up
the energy to put them away. I dragged out a few of my snowmen, one of my small
trees, and other Christmas odds and ends. But the bulk of the decorations are
in the garage in storage tubs. Then, I turned on the tree and flipped on the TV
to watch a Hallmark Christmas show. About ten minutes in, I realized I’d
already seen it.

I went to bed and read until about midnight. I’ve had trouble sleeping
since it started raining. The thinker keeps on thinking, and my normal
slumber-inducing methods aren’t working. For two days, the negative past
swooped down on me and washed away the positive thoughts like so much
driftwood.

I woke up this morning out of sorts. Testy and grumpy. At least I found
the energy to tackle a few tasks.

As
I sat down to write my blog post, I noticed a message on Google Plus. I called
my mom to share what was written. A person on the other side of the globe wrote
to comment on my special Mom after reading “Under Control” in Chicken
Soup for the SoulThanks To My Mom.

The note said, “I was very
impressed with your mother’s unconditional love for you and for Jim when she
tirelessly took care of him. She was still mothering you despite the fact that
you have become a mother yourself. Mothering is not something perfect women do,
it is something that perfects women. If she is still alive, please convey my
greetings to her and tell her that someone across the globe is very proud of
her.”

Happily, I responded that my
mom was in excellent health and would be turning 89 in January. I had
originally titled the story “Spicy Chicken Sandwich,” but the editors at Chicken
Soup renamed it, which is probably why they have bestsellers and I don’t.
It is always awesome to be in a Chicken Soup book. The competition is
fierce.

This story didn’t make it so
much on my writing merit as it did the story itself. A story of how my family
became my support system when I was a caregiver. They put up with me on sunny
days and rainy days to help me keep Jim at home as long as possible. In “Under
Control,” I focused on my mom, because you can only say so much in 1200 words.
The story could have been about Jim’s mom, my kids, my sisters (in-law and
birth), cousins, friends, neighbors, and eventually professional caregivers.

Caregivers have a lot of
rainy days. It seems that down days come in clusters.

Rain, and bad days, may seem
like they are going to last forty days and forty nights. Just about the time
you think you should get started on that Ark, the rainbow brings the promise
that everything is going to be all right. Next thing you know, the sun pops
through and dares those dark clouds to show their frowning gray faces.

Yep. It’s still raining here in Missouri, but I’ve passed through the
gloom and doom. I’m ready to tackle the world—tomorrow.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Still
dressed in my PJ’s and first cup of coffee in hand, I headed toward my
downstairs office yesterday morning. Harold had already forewarned me that as
soon as the weather was warm enough we would return to painting fence posts and
rails. I was determined to get an early start on my blog.

I sat in
front of my PC trying to decide if I dare jump into writing my blog post, or if
I should tackle my To-Do list first. I balanced the options in my head. If I
worked on my To-Do list, I would be jumping from task to task spinning my
figurative wheels in an attempt to multitask my multitasks. Hours would fly
past while I whittled down my list only to add more. The list has a life of its
own and is never ending.

Blog—a firm
decision. I should have done it Friday, and here it was Tuesday so I was
already four days behind. My quandary helped me decide on the title: “Welcome
to My World.”

I placed
my fingers on the keyboard and noticed my nail polish was worn and chipped. I
would have done them Monday before the Alzheimer’s Board meeting, but the power
was out when it was time to get ready and still out when I should have been
done. Just as I had thrown everything in the car to go to the other house to
shower, the power came back on.

Curiosity
won. Hair appointment: 10 a.m. What?
Well, that’s just dandy. Here it is 9:30, and I have to be dressed and in town
in thirty minutes.

I
abandoned my first cup of coffee and ran up the stairs knowing I’d need to be
dressed in record time. Short of breath, I rushed into Harold’s office to tell
him the good news. I threw on clothes and a little makeup. No need fussing with
my hair—that’s my hairdresser’s job. No need for earrings—they would just get
in the way.

After
getting my hair cut and styled, I made a quick trip to the grocery store. As I
put the groceries in the car, I saw the box of sponsor T-shirts in the backseat.
It was a perfect day to deliver them, but too warm to leave groceries in the
car. Besides, it was time to get home and paint. At least my hair looked great
until I put on the paint mask and pulled the elastic to the back of my head.

So,
seriously, welcome to my world. But then again, I think it’s everyone’s world
now. I don’t hold the patent on crazy, busy days. Looking back on my life, it
seems it has always been that way. When my kids were little, days blurred into
weeks, into months, and years until they weren’t little anymore. Then, Jim
became more dependent on me to provide his essential care. I became immersed in
caring for him and added volunteering for the Alzheimer’s Association to the
To-Do list.

As if
working, being a caregiver, and volunteer work wasn’t enough, I went back to
college. How did I do it? I have no clue. I just took it a day at a time. Heck,
sometimes it was minute to minute.

I wonder
how any of us do it. Do we take on more than humanly possible, or are we just
making the most of the time we have allotted to us? Are we doing the things we
love, or are we fulfilling obligations and pushing aside what we really want to
do?

The
bottom line is that it’s all about balance. I don’t want to be the kind of
person that blows off obligations, but I don’t want to be the kind of person
that only has time for obligations. I don’t mind standing in the freezing cold
to ring the bell for Salvation Army any more than sitting in the comfort of my
home writing a press release for scholarships.

Variety
is as important as balance. This is how I’ve chosen to live, so I’m sharing,
not complaining. I’ve been blessed in so many ways and am thankful for the
world I’ve been given. I appreciate life’s special surprises, like the imperfect,
but determined, volunteer pumpkin that grew in our yard this year. With a smile, I welcome you to my world.

Saturday, November 14, 2015

The month of November is a month of pumpkins, fall décor, thanksgiving, and the onslaught of the Christmas season. It is also Alzheimer’s Awareness Month.

I recently attended a “Coffee with Congress” at Provision Living Center in Columbia. I consider this as a “kickoff” to Alzheimer’s Awareness month.

It probably should have been called Coffee with Congress(ional) staff. Newbies to advocacy often become irate when they think they are going to talk to a member of Congress and instead talk to a staff member. I’ve seen perfectly capable advocates waste an opportunity to wholeheartedly share their message. Staff members are focused on what you have to say and they will share the relevant information with their boss.

In this instance, we met with three staff members. I had a great visit with Janna Worsham with Congresswoman Vicky Hartzler’s office, Sarah Barfield Graff with Senator Roy Blunt’s office, and Kyle Klemp with Senator Claire McCaskill’s office. We talked about funding for Alzheimer’s research and thanked them for their support.

We are proud of our Missouri group. Senator Blunt has requested $350 million additional funds for Alzheimer’s research. That is $50 million more than our ask. Senator McCaskill is the top ranking democrat on the special committee on aging. We saw her in action at the Alzheimer’s Public policy forum when she joined Chairman Susan Collins (R-Maine) to head a bipartisan hearing focusing on the financial, economic, and emotional challenges facing those with Alzheimer’s disease and their families.

In addition, I wanted to thank Congresswoman Vicky Hartzler for her unwavering support for Alzheimer’s research. One year when we brought a letter asking for a modest increase in Alzheimer’s research, she had already sent a request for $1 billion. She also uses Facebook, Twitter, and her newsletter to create her own storm of Alzheimer’s awareness. She and I connect on a personal level because we know the heartbreak of losing a loved one to dementia.

We also discussed the HOPE for Alzheimer’s Act and the asset the Act would be for families dealing with the disease. The Act is a common sense approach to providing Medicare coverage for comprehensive care planning services for newly diagnosed individuals and his or her caregiver, ensure that a diagnosis and care planning are included in medical records, and to require the Department of Health and Human Services to educate providers about the benefits.

As a caregiver, I kept track of Jim’s medical conditions—symptoms, diagnosis, tests run, side effects of prescription medications, and any information relative to his health. I took prints of the spreadsheet to every appointment. This kept him from being prescribed medications that he couldn’t take, duplication of tests, and helped me fill out all those darned forms. What happens to the people who don’t have someone to tell every specialist what others have done? The HOPE Act doesn’t have a “Score” which is an indication of what it would cost the government. Somehow, I think that instead of a cost to the government, it would save patients and the government by reducing duplication of services or writing prescriptions for medicine that has already created problems.

We heard caregiver stories including a care partner who was there with his lovely wife. He told of their problems with getting a diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer’s. I shared some of my caregiving experiences. Several Greater Missouri Chapter staff and Board members were present to tell their stories and share their passion.

The meeting was informative, encouraging, and relevant. Those of us attending the Coffee with Congress left with a conviction to do everything within our power to end this horrible disease. We look forward to the day that Alzheimer’s becomes a manageable disorder, or better yet, when researchers find a cure.
#ENDALZ

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Today we turned our clocks back one
hour. My cell phone and computer both did it for me, but the dozen or so other
clocks remain an hour ahead until they are changed.

I always remember which way to turn
the clocks by “spring forward” for daylight saving time and “fall back” to return to standard time. In
one place, I saw it referred to as “turn back time.”

Turning back time is completely appropriate
for another reason than standard time on November 1. This is the day after
Halloween and the religious holiday of “All Saints Day” or as it is celebrated
in some countries, “Day of the Dead.”

Is there any better way to turn
back time than to remember those who have already passed away? It’s strange
that I’ve never thought of this day as the Day of the Dead and never knew much
about that tradition. On this day, millions of people will make annual pilgrimages
to cemeteries and churches. Graves will be decorated with offerings of sugar
skulls, flowers, or favorite food and beverages. Prayers are offered for the
spiritual passing of loved ones.

Although I never celebrated the Day
of the Dead, for some reason the past week has been an extreme time of
reflection for me. On the drive back from my Alzheimer’s Board Meeting, I found
myself reminiscing during the hour-long drive over and, again, on the way back.

Who would think something so simple
as rolling dips in the road could bring back a vivid memory? Jim used to hit
those dips fast enough that my stomach would feel funny. I drove past the house
on Newland hill where we lived when our kids were little. I thought about them
standing at the end of the driveway waiting for the school bus. I remembered
Christmas, Halloween, and sitting around the dinner table. I remembered bits
and pieces of the life we once had—before time marched on.

I passed the turnoff to Arrow Rock
and thought of the good times we spent there. Remembered the time Jim wandered
off during the festival and it took my sister, her husband, and me some scary
moments before we found him.

Even before I drove past the cancer
hospital, the drive alone made me think of taking my co-worker and friend, Diane,
to Columbia for her treatments. That’s a double or triple memory. Diane’s
favorite holiday was Halloween and it was with great sadness that the cancer
took her on that day.

It is not unusual for a cemetery to
evoke memories of loved ones buried there. When I passed Hopewell, my thoughts
turned to Frank and Dorothy that we rented from when we lived on Newland Hill. I
thought of Aunt Addie who wasn’t my aunt at all, but a wonderful woman who made
the best of life in a wheelchair.

I’ve spent most of my life living within
seven miles of where I live now. No wonder every curve, hill, and
landmark made me think of the people who passed through my life, influencing
me, making me the person I am today.

If we really turned back time today—not
just for an hour, but could turn it back to a different time, it might not be the
miracle that we would envision. Just think, one small change in our past would
bring us to an entirely different destiny. We could drive ourselves insane with
a thousand what ifs.

When a loved one dies, they take a
piece of us with them, but they also leave part of themselves behind. We are
left with memories, and we are changed. Remembering good times is a way to
appreciate the gift of love. A
productive, happy life is based on what we were, how we cherish what we are now,
and the audacity to believe the future will be filled with hope, happiness, and
adventure.

Monday, October 26, 2015

On Sunday, I was working at the
Sedalia Business Women’s Chicken Dinner when I saw an elderly lady sitting all
alone at a table. Unlike everyone else, she did not have a plate of chicken and
trimmings in front of her.

She had a lost look, and
instinctively I knew she had dementia. Concerned that she had wandered in and
didn’t have a ticket, I walked over to her and asked, “Are you hungry for
chicken?” I had already decided that if she didn’t have a ticket, I’d buy her
lunch.

She smiled at me, tilted her
hand back and forth, and murmured some indiscernible words. I smiled at her and
walked to the ticket table.

“Do you know who that lady is?” I
asked.

“No, but I think she has Alzheimer’s.
Her husband is fixing her plate.”

I milled around, refilling drinks,
cleaning trays and tables. Eventually, a lady walked up to me, read my nametag
and asked, “Are you the Linda Fisher I saw in the paper that’s involved with
the Alzheimer’s Association.” I told her I was. With tears in her eyes, she told me her husband had
Alzheimer’s, and she had always wanted to meet me.

Later, another woman introduced
herself to me to let me know a mutual friend had steered her toward my blog.
Her husband, only in his sixties, had Alzheimer’s.

Eventually, I worked my way back to
the table where the lady sat with her husband eating her chicken dinner. She
spotted me and reached out to give me a hug. “I love you,” she said as she
kissed me on the cheek. I hugged her back. When the hug ended, she kissed my
hand.

Her husband smiled and said, “She
thinks everyone is the Pope.”

I introduced myself and told him my
husband had passed away at fifty-nine from dementia.

“Then, you understand what we are
going through,” he said.

“Yes, I do,” I said. We chatted for
a while about caregivers. He had just hired a new one. He was dismayed with the
lack of help and support he had found. He told me he didn’t have a computer, I
took his name and phone number to pass on to the Alzheimer’s Association.

It doesn’t matter where we are or
what we are doing, the chances are good we will run into someone who has a
personal connection with Alzheimer’s—people filled with questions and
looking for answers. Caregivers muddle through the disease doing the best they
can based on trial and error.

Unfortunately, when I look into the
face of someone with Alzheimer’s or the faces of caregivers, I don’t have all
the answers to their questions. All I can really do is offer hugs or hug back
when I’m being hugged. Offer support and caring. Listen. Accept human flaws.
Know that the worst response is indifference.

I’m thankful that these people
shared their personal stories, and thankful for the opportunity to share a hug
with a lovely lady who happens to have Alzheimer’s. I’m grateful for a glimpse
into her life—learn she was once a teacher, know she has a life beyond the scope
of the disease, and grateful she has a husband who fixes her plate and looks
out for her well-being.

Alzheimer’s disease is as
unpredictable as life itself. Each day is a new adventure and a new experience.
Yesterday, I met a lovely lady named Alice, and just like in Lisa Genova’s book,
she is still Alice. Thanks to her, a
chicken dinner turned into a once in a lifetime experience of being mistaken
for the Pope, and to share a few unforgettable moments with a loving,
good-hearted woman named Alice.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

I was at Walmart yesterday and the
lady checking my groceries asked, “How are you?”

“Fine,” I answered, “And how are you?”

Thank goodness, neither of us
answered the question with great thought as to how things were really going. What
if she had launched into a story about her husband’s cousin’s wife’s surgery
with complete gory details while the person in line behind me tried to run over
me with his cart?

About 99.9 percent of the time, if
I ask how someone is, they reply, “Fine.” I noticed that Jim retained this “polite”
conversational tool when his dementia was so advanced he could barely speak. If
someone said, “How are you?” he would answer, “Fine.” He wasn’t able to
verbalize just how awful his diagnosis was even if he’d wanted to share his
state of being.

During the dark days when I
was his caregiver, I never once answered a stranger’s polite inquiry with the
truth. It was always the stock, and expected, answer.

Occasionally, you will get a more
personal question, “How are you holding up,” from someone that knows the
circumstances of your life. In that case, we might answer something like, “Things
have been better.” Even with that hint of a problem, you might still go on
your un-merry way to avoid sharing your problems.

I just saw a Wisdom Quote on
Facebook that said, “The worst part about being strong is that no one ever asks
if you’re okay. It is true that when someone is caring for a loved one with a
serious illness, often people only ask about the person with the health problem.
They don’t stop to consider that often the caregiver is exhausted
physically and drained emotionally.

Most of us don’t like to be
whiners. Plain and simple. Yet, there are those among us who love to whine. I
do know certain people that I’ve learned the hard way to avoid the simple “How
are you” question. These are the people who suffer the woe-is-me attitude if
they have a hangnail. They will go on and on and on and on…then, when they have
to “run” they throw off a casual “How are you” and walk away without waiting
for an answer.

Even honest people tell this little
white lie. I guess if you’re having a really bad day, it’s better than bursting
into tears in the middle of the grocery store. No one wants to have a complete
meltdown in public. Well, almost no
one. Once again, there are those who try to get sympathy, or maybe a handout,
from strangers.

It isn’t easy to avoid the
pleasantries either. One day at a checkout, the young woman asked, “How are
you?” I replied “Fine” as I tried to get the card to swipe. “I’m fine too,” she
said. “Thanks for asking.” It sounded a whole lot like a rebuke to me for not
continuing a pointless exchange. Or did she simply hear what she expected?

I plan to continue with social pleasantries, even when it’s a big fat fib—at least with strangers. With
whiners, I might just say “hello” and avoid eye contact.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

My grandkids are always wanting me
to tell them spooky stories. I have several to choose from about my younger days
when Jim and I managed to live in some scary places and had strange experiences
galore.

It only stood to reason that when my
mom, sisters, and I planned a girls’ mini-vacation at Hannibal, a ghost tour would be on the agenda.
In all my extensive travels, I had never visited the town that served as Mark
Twain’s inspiration for Tom Sawyer.

We arrived in Hannibal at a good
time to take a trolley tour to get the lay of the land. While we were waiting, a
“Ghost Tour” sign caught our attention. We strolled inside and signed up for a
tour at 7:00 p.m.

During the day, we rode the
riverboat and still squeezed in a little shopping. My sisters and I bought
vintage hats to wear on the ghost tour.

Our ghost tour guides, Ken and
Lisa, asked whether we were more interested in history or ghosts. Our
preference was both, so we heard about Hannibal’s rich history and haunted
tales. During the tour, we stopped in front of several bed and breakfasts, an
old church, and the Rockcliffe Mansion. Ken and Lisa had lived in the mansion
and told us chilling stories of their adventures. Doors slamming and footsteps
on the stairs would be enough to make me hide my head beneath the covers.

The
mansion’s history is unusual. In its time it was the biggest and most opulent
mansion in Missouri. Lumber baron John J. Cruikshank chose a spot already occupied
by a mansion. He moved the offending house next door and eventually his
daughter lived there. After Cruikshank died, his widow moved from Rockcliffe to
her daughter’s home leaving nearly all her belongings behind.

All that's left of the maps.

Rockcliffe remained abandoned for 43 years, its windows
broken out, and the rite-of-passage for teenagers was to go into the house to
the third floor and rip off a piece of the map in the children’s room. I’m sure
it was considered a sign of bravery to accomplish this route without freaking
out. Although, the mansion’s ghosts are considered to be friendly, Casper-type
ghosts, I decided that I wouldn’t want to spend the night there.

Our tour ended with a trip to the
cemetery, spooky to be sure. Although I’d visited a cemetery on a previous
ghost tour, it was not like this one. The other cemetery was in the middle of
Boston and well-lighted. This cemetery was on the edge of town, no lights, and
although it had been cleaned up, it was still an old, old cemetery with toppled
stones around the fringes. We were furnished with divining rods and tiny two-inch flashlights. I wouldn’t touch the rods after we were instructed how to get
yes and no answers because it reminded me of a Ouija board pointer. I’ve had
some hair-raising experiences with Ouija boards and didn’t want to be calling
up any spirits without Ghost Busters on speed dial.

The next day, after visiting the
museum and Twain’s boyhood home, we toured Rockcliffe. You’ve heard about pictures that have eyes
that follow you no matter where you are. Well, there’s one of John Cruikshank
that does that. I’m not ashamed to say that’s just a little bit creepy. After
seeing the bedrooms, I’m sure I would not have had a restful night had we
chosen to stay there. Old clothes, hats, and shoes in the closet made me think
the lady of the manor might return to change her clothing.

To finish our journey, we drove
into Illinois looking for Burbridge Cemetery where several of our ancestors are
buried. We got lost. We finally asked a local and he directed us to it. My
sister consulted her genealogy book and we found several graves listed in the
book. We took photos and headed for home.

It is always fun to spend time with
family. It’s something most of us put aside for the busy, mundane things we do
in life. Sometimes, it helps to take a step back and think about how after we’re
gone, a stone may be the only visible reminder of our time on earth. Someday,
that stone may be part of a ghost tour and a tourist with a divining rod may be
asking us yes and no questions. Wouldn’t it be so much fun to groan loudly and
say, “Get your big fat foot off my head!”

Monday, October 5, 2015

Last week during the
full-blood-super-moon eclipse, I discovered that I wasn’t my normal self. I
woke up at 10:30 a.m. after an extraordinarily long night of nightmare infested
slumber. To say I got up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement—it
was more like I got up on the wrong side of the house. Cranky, headachy, and on
the verge of tears, it’s no wonder my husband retreated to his office for the
day. His main goal of the day was to steer clear of the crazy woman in the
kitchen.

There was no explanation for the
way I felt. It just was, and it wasn’t going away. It all boiled down to simply having a bad day.

What causes us to have a bad day?
Most of the time, it is because of external problems beyond our control that
make us nervous or unhappy. Too often, we let the behavior of others ruin an
otherwise good day. Someone makes a hurtful or disparaging remark that sinks
its ugly roots into our self-esteem and the worry of its validity gnaws at our
self-worth. Some bad days, like the one I had, are internal. An unsettling
night that spilled over into the daylight.

Anyone can have a bad day, but
people with dementia have more than their share. When you take into account
their daily wrestling match with confusion and the other symptoms Alzheimer’s
causes, it helps you understand how bad days can be plentiful.

The unfortunate nature of a bad day
is that it can be contagious. When the person with dementia has a bad day, the
caregiver has a bad day too.

So what the heck can you do about
that? It’s hard enough to deal with yourself, much less someone else, when
emotions are out of whack, common sense is on vacation, and patience abandoned
ship. It’s time to give yourself a time-out.

Do something you really love to
do, even if you can spare only a few minutes. Some suggestions: a half-hour
comedy (I can’t possibly stay depressed watching the Golden Girls), read a magazine or a chapter in a good book, go for
a walk, call your mom or a good friend, or bake cookies.

After your time-out, take a few
deep breaths, and if you baked cookies, now would be a good time to have some
with a glass of milk. Now you are ready to stay calm—the number one method for
handling your loved one’s bad day. Hopefully, you’ve regained your ability to
be patient, because you will need an abundance of it.

A good rule to remember is that
what worked yesterday may not work today, so be flexible. Distraction
is your friend. If your loved one is crying, or in a really bad mood, you may want to scoop up an ice cream cone. One thing that
always worked with Jim was taking a drive. He loved getting in the car and
heading down the road. An even better trip for him was when we stopped by DQ
for a milkshake.

When a person with dementia has a
bad day, it shows in his behavior. Though easier said than done, your best
response is to address the emotion rather than the behavior.

There is no one cause for a bad day
and there isn’t one solution. I think my bad day was the result of a bad night
and, of course, the full moon. Probably the real reason is that I’m human with
human emotions. So, I had a bad day. It wasn’t the first, and rest assured, it
won’t be the last.

Monday, September 21, 2015

On a cold February night, just as we were going to bed, I casually
mentioned to Harold that this was my year to host our family get-together. We
used to gather on Thanksgiving at my mom and dad’s house.

After Dad died, and Mom
sold the house to my brother Mitchell, we converged on them for several years until
we made a change with tradition. We decided to pass the hosting around by going
from oldest to youngest and decided to meet in September when the weather was
better.

“When were you going to tell me this?” he asked.

“Oh, about August,” I replied. Harold is the planner. I, on the other hand, am a
seat-of-the-pants type person.

Well, he wasn’t having any of that. After a barrage of
questions about logistics, I finally suggested we have the event at the park so we
wouldn’t have to find tables, chairs, etc. that he was worrying about seven
months ahead of time.

By March, we had rented the shelter at the park and worked
on a list of things to do. In addition to the place, the host family provides
the meat, drinks, and table service.

The reunion was Sunday, and we couldn’t have asked for
better weather. We were up at 6:00 a.m., and Harold was in drill-sergeant mode.
Before I could get a cup of coffee, he was slicing up the pork loin we’d cooked
the day before, and one of the huge hams he had bought for the occasion.

By the time we got the first ham in the roaster oven it was
full. Harold was still fretting that we weren’t going to have enough meat. “That’s
plenty,” I said. After all, Stacey was bringing two turkey breasts.

“This isn’t like the Fisher reunion,” I said. The Fisher
reunion is for anyone with the last name, but this reunion is for our immediate
family, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. “We usually have
about thirty people, not a hundred.”

He finally settled on cooking an additional three-pound ham,
just in case. Then we fixed gallons and gallons of tea. Thank goodness, Rob
came by with his pickup to help us load everything into his truck and our
Tahoe.

On the way to town, I began to feel the excitement. Until
then, I’d been too busy. I love spending time with my family, and don’t see
them as often as I should.

Both my sons were there and my two youngest grandchildren. My
two oldest grandkids work on weekends, but Whitney would be coming by on her
lunch hour.

Rob set up a PC to play a CD made from a video of a Capps family
Thanksgiving from the early 1990’s. Mom was taking a turkey out of the oven,
and my husband Jim was running the video camera.

After everyone found the right shelter, we decided to go
ahead and start eating. My brother Mitchell had not arrived, but was on his
way. Tommy asked a short blessing. “Wow,
that must be the shortest blessing you’ve ever done,” I said.

“He’s still going on the videotape,” someone said. Sure
enough, the CD was still rolling and Tommy was still asking the blessing. In all
fairness, we used to update everyone on our family, and he had the largest
family.

We visited and took photos of the brothers, sisters, and our
mom. Marshall wasn’t able to come this year and our brother Donnie passed away Thanksgiving
eve in 2012.

The time just flew by, and before it seemed possible, people
were leaving. It had been a beautiful day to spend with people I love. Of all
things in life, family matters the most.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Our Walk to End Alzheimer’s was Saturday. Nearly a full year
of preparation all came together for a flawless event. The one thing you can’t
really control is the weather, but it cooperated in a big way. The day was
gorgeous, and for once, I didn’t have butterflies worrying about whether it was
going to rain…or be so hot that someone could have heatstroke.

Before the Walk, we determined the eldest walker (Uncle
Johnny) and the youngest, Bella Howard, a sweet baby wearing a Fairview shirt. The
best individual fundraiser, Jessica Snell, was announced. Trophies were awarded
to Sylvia G. Thompson for best fundraising and largest team.

Jessie from the Greater Missouri Chapter surprised me with
an award. She pulled out a photo collage that immediately brought back
memories. She asked me to say a few words.

“They caught me off guard,” I said. Then, I became so choked
up, I had to pause before I could continue. Normally, when I speak, I prepare
myself mentally to keep the emotions on the inside. After a brief pause, I was
able to thank the wonderful walkers and teams that have supported our efforts
throughout the years. Then, I told everyone how important the Walk was to me personally
and how it helped me through the tough times. It gave me a focus and a way to
feel good about helping put an end to this awful disease.

The extra bonus for the day was that the weather was also
perfect for the other two outdoor events I planned to attend. At three
o’clock, my great-niece was married in the same locale where we held the walk—the
Highway Gardens on the Fairgrounds.

Larry Cooper

The final event to end my day was to watch “Changed By Grace”
perform at the Sedalia Rockin’ for Jesus show. Besides the spiritual
implications of the evening, two of the band members happen to be my nephews
Mike Munsterman and Larry Cooper.

Mike Munsterman

I thoroughly enjoyed their uplifting performance and their testimonies.

A song that really made me think
about life was one Larry wrote, “On the
Inside.” The song is about how we work to have all the material possessions, but then fall into the trap of devoting our lives to gaining even more worldly goods.
Looking successful on the outside does not necessarily make a person happy or feel good about how he got to that point in life. In the song, Larry shares the importance of living life in such a way that a person feels good on the inside.

Mike, too, has found a way to feel good on the inside. He has put his life back together after losing his wife
Krystal. He has made a positive impact on the homeless through Krystal’s Dream.
Mike has traveled far and wide to provide shoes and socks to those who have
fallen on hard times. Through his mission, he has taken
a tragedy that could have broken him, and turned it into action to help others.

To feel good on the inside you have to find that sweet spot
in your soul where love, peace, and spirituality come to life. The important
times in our lives are the heart moments spent doing what we love and being
with those we love.

Is there anything better than living life in such a manner
that it really does make us feel good on the inside? Sometimes we just need to put
aside the negative thoughts and pressures that daily life brings and focus on
the positive, happy times that make us smile.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

In “The Rainy Day” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow said, “Into
each life some rain must fall.” At times
we pray for rain, the refreshing life-essential drops that come from the
heavens to end droughts. Other times, when we have an important outdoor
activity we don’t want it to rain. We wonder why it can’t hold off for just a
while longer. Is that too much to ask?

Labor Day is our day for our big Walk to End Alzheimer’s fundraiser
for Jim’s team. This was our 17th year to do the “traffic stop.” It
seems the day is usually unbearably hot, and this year looked to be more of the
same. Then, the forecast called for heat and a chance of rain.

“Will you still do the stop if it rains, or will you
reschedule,” my niece asked the day before.

“We can’t reschedule it. If it rains, we’ll stand in the
rain. If we have a thunderstorm, we’ll wait it out in our cars,” I said. In all
the previous years, we only had one rainy day. It was a blessing in disguise
because the intermittent, gentle showers made for a cooler day.

As we began setting up our signs, a few gentle drops fell.
Not bad, I thought. Suppose to last only a short while and move out. Soon, the
rain began falling a little harder, and eventually, those of us who brought
umbrellas stood beneath them. Only Shelly and Chris didn’t have umbrellas.
Chris was wearing a raincoat, but Shelly just stood alongside the road with her
collection can without protection against the rain that stalled over our heads.

I glanced down the street and saw a lady coming out of her
house carrying a smiley-face umbrella. She talked to Shelly for a few minutes
and handed her the umbrella. This woman had lived in the house for eleven years
and noticed us every year and admired our tenacity to continue through the hot
days in the past. She gave Shelly a donation and insisted she take the umbrella.
The woman told Shelly that her sister was only in her fifties and had been
diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s.

The relentless rain fell on our “parade” until the last half
hour. Water was running down the ditches, and the umbrellas didn’t keep the
rain from soaking us. I didn’t mind the wet shirt and capris nearly as much as
sloshing around with wet socks and shoes. Hey, it was still better than
one-hundred degree heat. We didn’t let the rain dampen our spirits.

In his poem, Longfellow isn’t speaking of physical rain. He
is speaking of the dark times when we cling to the past and “days are dark and
dreary.” It makes me think of a conversation I had with a caregiver recently.
She was battling depression and felt overwhelmed taking care of her husband who
has Alzheimer’s. Yet, while we talked, I could tell she had the courage and indomitable
spirit to keep on keeping on.

We all deal with our own personal rainy days. Sometimes they
are gentle showers, and we can just shrug them off. We can even soldier through
those steady downpours without much ado. Then there are those times when the
wind is gusting, the thunder is booming, and a torrential downpour flash floods
all over our last ray of optimism.

Before you let rainy, turbulent times dampen your spirits, remember
the sun is still above those pesky clouds. Sunshine after a rain is glorious;
rays beam down like the word of God, and the rainbow promises better days to
come.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

A couple of days ago, Harold popped a big bowl of popcorn and
we settled in front of the T.V. to watch the old episodes of Castle recorded on our DVR. I pushed the
“on” button, and nothing happened. After pushing on/off/select numerous times,
the most I could get on the T.V. was “no signal.”

Harold tried to reset the
satellite receiver without success, so it was time to call DISH. After a half
hour of trying this, selecting that, and retrying to acquire a signal, a
heavily accented voice said they would be mailing us a new receiver.

After some tough negotiations, Harold convinced them they
needed to send a repair person to come out and set up the new receiver. They
will be here Tuesday. So without any other kind of reception, we are without a
T.V.

Being without a T.V. isn’t so bad. It reminded me of the good
old days when we didn’t watch T.V. in the summer because all programs were
reruns. So what did we do without all the extensive programming on T.V.? Well,
we read books and spent time outside. Thank goodness, I had a book on my
Kindle to read, and I had gone a little overboard at Books-A-Million when I was in
Branson.

The spending time outside has worked well. Friday, I spent
the day with my mom and sister. We visited, ate at Country Kitchen. I didn’t
miss T.V. at all. The real acid test was Saturday. As it turned out, my major
complaint with Saturday was that there wasn’t enough time to take a break. We
were up early and fixed a big breakfast—different from our routine of coffee
and bagel in front of the T.V. After a
day of mowing, yard work, and going to town, the day was over, and I hadn’t
gotten a single thing marked off my personal task list. Determined to at least
get one thing checked off, I worked until nearly midnight. T.V.? What’s that?

This morning, I dragged myself out of bed for early church
services. I wore one of my purple Alzheimer’s shirts and picked up a copy of Broken Road: Navigating the Alzheimer’s
Labyrinth to give to Pastor Jim for being the inspiration for some of my
blog posts.

As I walked into the sanctuary, they had me choose a rock. “You’ll
need it during the service,” was the explanation. I was hopeful we weren’t going
to “stone” anyone for his or her transgressions.

I go to contemporary services at the Celebration Center. We
have a band and the lyrics to our songs are displayed on a screen. One of our pastors, Nick, brought a message
about the traditional Methodist Hymnal and the “rules” for singing the songs. The
rules included learning the tunes, singing them exactly as they are written,
everyone should sing (take up your cross and bear it, if necessary), sing lustfully
(not as half-dead or asleep), yet modestly without destroying the harmony, keep
time and sing with the leading voices, and most of all sing spiritually.

Hymnals have the traditional hymns that we sang back in the “good
old days.” After the message from 1 Samuel about a stone he called Ebenezer, we
sang a traditional hymn, “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” The women sang the melody and the men repeated
a line. It was really quite beautiful, and I think John Wesley would have been
proud.

One of the lines in the song is, “Here I raise my Ebenezer.”
As we sang the song, we came forward in the same manner as communion and placed
our rocks on the altar. It was a touching moment that made me feel like I’d
taken a step back to another, simpler time.

Maybe the “good old days” weren’t always good, but something
about them tugs at the heart. It’s the place of our memories and the roots of
our traditions. Those were days when we were young and full of hope.

Taking a step back for a few days is a welcome relief. Soon,
very soon, I’ll be ready to return to watching my favorite programs, but for
now—I’m doing just fine without T.V.

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Early Onset Alzheimer’s

This award-winning blog is a must-read for individuals experiencing early-onset Alzheimer’s. Less common than standard age-related dementias, early onset Alzheimer’s is virtually always a surprise to diagnosed individuals. Linda Fisher, blogger and author, knows the difficulty of this condition firsthand.

In her Early Onset Alzheimer’s blog, she teaches readers not just how to manage such a frightening condition, but also how to live life to the fullest. Her passion for helping others – showing everyone that life with Alzheimer’s is worth living – is a tremendous gift. Thank you, Linda!

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Early Onset Blog has received several blog awards. Due to new Google regulations, the links had to be removed. Past awards have included the #1 Health Blog , Top 10 blog in 2010, Top 25 Blog award in 2010, and a Top 50 award in 2012. We appreciate the recognition, but also understand the need to remove the links.

I went to sleep around midnight and woke up at 4:00 a.m. I tossed, turned, read, tossed, turned, and read some more. Finally more than t...

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Books are a print version of Linda's award-winning Blog. These books are published for the benefit of those without Internet access or who just prefer to curl up with a book rather than browsing online. If you enjoy Linda's blog posts, you might want to purchase the book for a friend or family member.

Fisher began her online journal to share her experiences with families affected by early onset dementia. Her essays provide insight into family life often from a humorous viewpoint. She writes from her experiences as a longtime Alzheimer's Association volunteer and advocate and ten years as a primary caregiver for her husband, Jim.

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Alzheimer's Anthology of Unconditional Love by L. S. Fisher

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I have participated in a link exchange with the Fisher Center for Alzheimer's Research Foundation. They have this blog http://earlyonset.blogspot.com/ listed in their Alzheimer's blogs.

Lindsay Nason wrote about my Early Onset Blog: "I want to thank you for sharing your powerful experience and your creative suggestions with others. . . . Your blog offers a unique and personal insight into this disease, which can be such a comfort to other members of the Alzheimer's community."

Thank you, Lindsay, for your kind words and for including the Early Onset Blog on your website.